walking distance to Wrigley Field. “Of course,” I said. Rachel’s grandmother owned the apartment and I paid rent to Rachel—a much-reduced rent by Chicago standards. I’d always known I couldn’t live there forever. “That makes sense.”
“Ashar wondered if we could put your things in storage so he can convert your room into his man cave.”
Already? I’d left most of my belongings in Chicago. “I won’t be able to get back up there to pack. At least not for a few weeks.”
“I’ll pack for you. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course, not” I chirped. At least I hoped I sounded chirpy. Peppy. Maid of honor-y. I tried to put myself in her shoes. Madly in love. Wanting to move on to a new phase in her life. I’d kick me out too. “My parents have a storage unit and I’ll ask one of my brothers to move my stuff once it’s packed.” I didn’t have that much because the place had been furnished with Rachel’s grandmother’s things.
“Thanks for understanding. You’re the best. Hey, why did you call?”
I couldn’t tell her about finding Elwell when she was so happy. “I must have just sensed you had something to tell me.” We hung up a few minutes later.
* * *
My thoughts turned back to Elwell. I didn’t know that much about him, so I looked him up on my phone. He was the president of the Emerald Cove Chamber of Commerce. Really? He was supposed to be supporting local businesses, not scaring customers away by acting crazy. Could that be a motive for murder? There wasn’t much else about him online. Nothing about his murder, but it had only happened a few hours ago, so that wasn’t too surprising.
I headed back to my car. Maybe the mindless work at the Sea Glass would help, or maybe I’d hear something that would relieve my worries about Vivi. Because as much as I loved Boone, I couldn’t imagine working for a murderer.
CHAPTER 6
That evening at closing, Joaquín lounged against the backside of the bar watching me attack a stubborn stain on the wood. He’d just closed the sliders and locked up.
“What did that stain do to you? Yesterday it was chopping the fruit, today this.”
“It had the nerve to appear on Vivi’s bar.” I’d been thinking about my run-in with Rhett, finding Elwell, and Vivi’s argument with a man last night. I attacked the spot again. “Do you know a Rhett B—”
“Rhett Barnett? Sure do, but don’t let Vivi hear you saying his name in here.”
Hmmm. Rhett had made it sound like he was on speaking terms with Vivi, though she did give him the cold shoulder earlier. “Why not?”
“The Slidells and the Barnetts make the Montagues and Capulets look like family friends.”
“Shakespeare?” I asked.
“Just ’cause I live in the South and fish don’t mean I don’t know nothin’.” He said it with a fake drawl heavy with sarcasm.
“That’s not what I meant to imply.” Or had it been? Did I have some teensy prejudices against Southern people that up until this point I didn’t realize? “I’m sorry.” Joaquín was the only person who was halfway friendly to me here. I couldn’t lose him as a potential friend. I needed my Scarecrow.
Joaquín raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then. By the way, the stain’s been gone for a good minute. You can quit scrubbing.”
I looked down, and he was right. At least I’d accomplished something today, even if it was only removing a stain. “Where’s Vivi?” She’d been in this morning, but took off when Joaquín showed up at one.
“She’s planning a memorial for Elwell with the other heritage businesses.”
“The heritage businesses?” I asked. “What are they?”
“Any business that’s been open since 1950 or before. You go back much further than that and this was just a spit of land with a couple of sandy roads leading to the beach. Then the fishing village popped up, and more people starting moving here.”
“So which businesses are the heritage ones?”
“Here, of course, and the Briny Pirate. The Hickle glass-bottom boat, the Redneck Rollercoaster, the Emerald Cove fishing boat charter, and Russo’s Grocery Store. They’ve been passed down from generation to generation.”
“Most of those places are stops on the Redneck Rollercoaster.” So was the Sea Glass. I had picked up a brochure, but hadn’t gone for a ride yet. Why it was called that when it was a trolley that took tourists to several local historic spots, the beach, and, of course, here, remained a mystery to me.
“You done?” Joaquín asked. “I have an early start tomorrow.”
“I am.” I hoped it wasn’t too late to find a motel room somewhere. I needed a good night’s sleep and a real shower. Maybe even room service. It sounded like heaven. My morning could be summed up as one of my favorite children’s books: Chloe and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning. Okay, so that wasn’t quite the title, but close enough. If I stayed in a motel and Officer Biffle came back around, I’d have proof I’d stayed somewhere.
Joaquín slid a dolphin key ring with keys on it across the bar to me.
“What’s this?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine that Vivi wanted me to have the keys to the bar.
“It’s the keys to Boone’s place.”
I frowned. Boone had lived in Chicago, not more than two blocks from me. Was this Vivi’s way of telling me to get out? “Boone’s place?”
“Yes. Vivi bought it for him years ago.”
I stared at Joaquín. “Boone rented his place in Chicago.” I would have known if he’d owned it.
“Not his place in Chicago. His home here.”
Boone had a home here? It had been a long day. Rhett had scared the bejesus out of me early this morning, and then I found Elwell dead. Followed by Rachel’s big engagement-and-moving announcement. Throw in worrying about Vivi and working. I was starting to wonder if I was hearing things.
“Are you okay?” Joaquín raised his eyebrows in alarm.
The jury was out on that one. Boone having a place here was news to me. “Does she need me to go over there and clean or something?”
“You can stay there. I didn’t know you’d been sleeping in your car.”
I blushed. This was so humiliating. I lifted my chin. “I don’t need charity. I’m staying at a motel tonight, and I’ll find a permanent place in the morning.” If I could. It was the height of tourist season, when condo rentals were as rare as snowflakes and more expensive than a private yacht. If not, maybe I’d buy a tent and camp somewhere. Although none of my childhood camping experiences had been all that great. I’d never been sure which I’d been more afraid of, a wandering bear or a psychopath I was always sure was hiding out in the woods. Needless to say, when we’d camped,
